In the Rubble of 1943
by letitbeme.x
Summary: It's 1946, the war is over, the people of Britain have moved on, except Bella who has spent the past three years in a hospital ward after being in a coma. Starting anew in Mrs Cullen's house in the country as her sons nurse, Bella begins to build a new life from something she never expected. Sounds simple right?
1. Chapter 1

**As you probably know by now I am a complete history nerd, so you won't be surprised by this new story. Anyway I hope you enjoy **

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War changes everything and everyone around you, there is no choice in the matter. You carry on regardless, you carry on if you have no roof on your house, you keep on going if your family is dead, you damn well try your hardest when there is no money left, no food and no processions.

You have no choice.

I have no choice but to leave this hospital now, my wounds have healed but scratches remain that run too deep for any medicine to cure, too big to tape over with bandages.

There is a bus I'm told waiting for me, to take me off. A house in the country apparently has need for new staff.

New staff, I laugh at that, they don't want new staff at all, they need replacements. There are a lot of people and places that need replacements.

Now that the war is over there are a lot of echoes, a lot of empty spaces.

The pavements bustling around, business as usual.

A smart gentleman tips his navy hat to me as he passes, briefcase in hand. A lady pushes a pram across the street, looking left and right, dodging busses, bikes and cabs, quit an act of daring in the busy London streets.

I have seen this scene many times, from the window of my hospital ward. I would open the top of glass pane and breathe in deeply, savouring the bitter taste of petrol, coal and cooking from the café's. It was all so different from the sterilised white steeliness of the hospital. It didn't seem real to me.

But now standing in the middle of this everything seemed too real.

From the end of the road I spotted the bus, it was quiet small but the mint green stripe around it was hard to miss. A 'Bovril' poster was plastered on its side above the windows.

It stopped in front of me. The door opened with a creek and a moan for oil, a sudden waft of tobacco smoke invaded my nostrils.

I stepped in, heaving my case with me. The cold metal edges tapped against my leg.

The bus driver took of his hat in greeting, showing me a kindly smile on a chubby face. "Good morning love." He said with a round mouth.

I nodded to him and forced what I thought to be a smile.

Walking to the back of the bus I put my case on the rack overhead and sat down, crossed my legs at the ankle and rested my hands over my handbag on my lap.

The seat bounced, the springs dug into my backside with every turn the bus made.

The scenery past me by. I was amazed to see how different it all was, there were no flames or piles of rubble left, of course there were building missing walls and roofs but it all looked horribly polished somehow.

I shook my head and surveyed the bus instead.

There was an elderly lady at the front, knitting needles dancing in her hands.

A young mother and her son sitting next to her sat a few rows in front of me, the boy rambled happily with his hand buried deep in a brown paper bag of sweets.

I noticed her outfit. A smart burgundy skirt suit, angular in the shoulders, a smooth black trim on the lapels. Short black gloves on her hands and gold buttons were regimentally arranged on her cuffs, sticking out into the isle was a neat pair of brown polished shoes with those nice curved heals. On her head was a black hat, round in shape that seemed to cap the side of her head, a longish pheasant feather arched from one side of it to the other.

I looked down at my own outfit. My brown tweed skirt and jacket with leather elbow patches, one black the other brown, my shoes were black, a little cuffed and misshaped at the toe, the heals were chucky blocks. I looked scornfully at my duck egg blue shirt with its small white plastic buttons and scalloped collar.

I suppose this looked fashionable and stylish in 1943, but now it just looked shoddy and plain. Its 1946, the war is over and people are fashionable again.

Deciding not to dwell on this anymore I settled back to looking out of the window and waited for the country side to formulate beyond the glass.

It was getting dark when I finally reached my destination. I don't really know where I am, only that there are no cars and no bustle, no café's or street venders. And no God damn matrons.

The large house in front of me was old. Red bricked and dusty looking. Quilted windows were framed with pristine white.

Lights were on in most of the rooms and the golden hew shone onto the gravel courtyard.

Picking up my case I walked towards the door.

Trepidation kicked my heart. What was I doing?

Gripping the cool door knocker I tapped it twice.

Before I had chance to blink the door opened.

"Hello, you must be Miss Swan." A rather short woman said warmly.

I was taken aback, I expected an old heavily built matron with thick ankles and an unflattering amount of facial hair.

Instead in front of me was a slender woman in her mid-fifties, she wore her grey speckled caramel hair loosely pinned back, she wore no blue nurses dress but a flattering cotton floral printed dress.

"Hello." I said awkwardly.

"Do come in! You must be shattered." She said with more warmth whilst taking my case out of my hand.

"Gosh, you travelled lightly." She said as we walked into the house.

I have nothing else, I wanted to retort but I had been told to be polite to the people in my new home.

The entrance hall was as I expected, neat and clean and quintessentially country.

We made our way to what I assumed was the kitchen.

I sat in a wooden chair at the long oak table as she fluttered around the kitchen gathering things for a cup of tea.

Once it was made she sat opposite me.

"I am so glad you came, when Sister Cope said you needed a place to stay I was more than happy to demand that she send you here. The house is so big now-"

Her chattering faulted for a moment like a cloud over a field where sun once was.

"Well I need help around here anyway, now that the city is back up and running nobody can stand the country." She was definitely a talker.

"Thank you Mrs-"

"Cullen, I'm Mrs Cullen, but you must call me Esme."

"Thank you Esme, but…what sort of job am I do to here?" I asked. The hospital had not told me anything, just packed me up and put me on a bus.

Mrs Cullen laughed heartily.

"They are so silly at that place. I Just need help with the house work…" she cut herself off again, uncertainty in her voice.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the crisp cotton of her dress rustled in the silent kitchen.

"I also need help with my son." She said quickly.

Oh so I was to be a nanny then. She didn't seem too old to be a mother of a small child or young teen.

I nodded my head. I could do this, I had a younger brother, I know what to do.

The clock in the corner of the room chimed.

"Oh would you look at the time!" she exclaimed surprised.

The chimes told me it was nine o'clock.

Mrs Cullen tidied away the crockery onto a tray and placed it beside the sink.

"Now we really must get you to bed." She said with a soft stern voice.

I followed her up the stairs; they were old and creaked but were without a speck of dust.

We passed closed doors, the pace picked up past one with just a smidge of light that escaped beneath it. I didn't ask questions, I was too tired.

Finally we reached mine.

It was small, modest like the rest of the house, but it was better than anything I have ever slept in. in was an amazing improvement from the hospital ward.

"Good night." She said in a hushed ton and placed my case on the end of my bed.

I changed, brushed my hair and laid out my clothes for tomorrow.

In a half unconscious state I crawled into the cool inviting crisp cotton sheets.

I sighed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes.

"Good night Edward." I heard her whisper softly.

There was no reply.

I drifted off to sleep.

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**Hope you enjoyed it. More soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hii again, thank you for the lovely reviews. x**

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I expected the clatter of bed pans to wake me but I only heard birds and the hum of the wireless downstairs.

It was light in the room; it wasn't stark or punishing or imposed. No this was natural, this was friendly.

I rolled back the heavy covers and swung my legs over the bed and onto the cold wooden floor.

I grabbed my shawl and cautiously left my room, tiptoed to the bathroom opposite to the left of my room.

I washed my face quickly and looked in the mirror of the cabinet.

They don't have many mirrors in hospitals; it upsets people to see themselves.

I don't give myself as much as a second's glimpse.

With a flannel I wash and comb my hair.

The only other outfit I have in my case is a green cotton dress; one of the other patients gave it to me before they went home. It's a little too big but I think it's nice.

Tentatively I make my way down to the kitchen where I hoped to find Esme.

The kitchen was empty but the kettle was on the stove, whistling softly.

There were footsteps upstairs and a door closing.

Against my better judgement I strained my ears to listen to what was being said.

"Morning Edward." That was Mrs Cullen's cheerful voice.

Again there was no reply, a little rattle of a tea cup and saucer followed.

"We have a guest." I turned away and made myself some tea giving my employer some privacy.

Not long after I had eaten some toast and jam Mrs Cullen was back in the kitchen, a bright smile on her face.

"Good Moring Isabella!" she exclaimed. Today she was wearing a pale blue shirt and brown skirt, casual but still admirable.

"Good morning." I replied.

She sat at the table and started to flick through this morning's paper.

I stood idly by the table. Surely I should be put to work now?

Isn't that what I have been sent here for? To work and earn my keep?

"Errm Mrs-Esme what am I to do today?" I asked hesitantly.

Esme looked up from her paper slightly confused but then suddenly remembered herself.

"Oh yes, well I'm going to dust the front room today so….I think the stairs and landing need brushing and dusting." She seemed pleased with her answer and sprang up from the table and reached for her cleaning apron and handed me the spare. Esme (I might as well refer her as that to head her request) then opened the utility and handed me the cleaning supplies.

She paused and gasped "Oh gosh, I completely forgot!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Forgot what?"

"Your leg!" she said in horror.

"I forgot your poor leg, how can you possibly bend down all day and scrub with a bad leg!?"

Ah, yes my leg. How could I forget?

How could I forget shrapnel embedding itself in my leg?

"It's ok, its healed now." I tried to appease her.

It didn't work. Her face was now marred with worry.

She grabbed the scrubbing brush and bucket from my hands and put them back.

"No, I will not let you crawl about, no you just stick to dusting. I have so many shelves and paintings upstairs that need a good seeing to."

And that is what I did, I dusted.

I hadn't done this in a long time; I'm not sure whether my house had such things to dust. I concluded it must have, every home has photos and books.

It was odd being upstairs in a strange new house. Not that the house was creepy or horrible looking, it was just so quiet, so deserted of life that it made me so sad. I was used to people always being around, whether you wanted them to be or not they were there. Just always there.

I dusted old paintings of sea scapes and stately homes. And it was the most I had done in three years.

Suddenly there was a clatter from the room with the light from last night.

I jump and nocked myself into the corner of a cabinet.

Pain in my leg radiated. I just gritted my teeth against it and breathed deeply. It passed, thank god. Damn shrapnel!

The noise must have come from Esme's son!

Quickly I rushed to the room.

Please let him be alright! I prayed.

I pushed the door open and was greeted by a sight I wasn't expecting.

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**Thank you for reading! Xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

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On the bed was a man.

Not a boy.

A full grown man.

I froze mid-way across the floor.

"Who the hell are you!" he sneered. Angry green eyes glared in at me in open hostility.

"I-I'm Mrs Cullen's-"

"You're the help." He finished.

I nodded my head not wanting to anger him further.

He was propped up in bed, the covers up to his pyjama clad stomach.

He just stared at me expectantly.

"Are you alright?" I ventured. His sharp eyes looked at me and with a sarcastic sweep of his arm he gestured to the bed and his tightly bound legs.

It was clear that he had reached for the book on the bedside cabinet and had knocked over his tray, the contents were strewn across the bed and tea was seeping into the carpet.

"I should clean this up" I muttered deciding to just ignore his handsome face with its angular jaw and strong nose, no I must do my job and not look at him.

I walked towards the bed like you would towards a lion in a cage at the zoo, small steps one after the other knowing the beast can't hurt you but not taking the chance anyway.

I gripped the bed and bent down, my leg ached in protest. I breathed deeply.

With quick hands I picked up the breakfast stuff. I had a suspicion his eyes were surveying me but he remained silent.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of the room and the sun light coming through the window was cold.

"I'm going to have to get a cloth for the tea." I told him not expecting or wanting a reply.

However getting back up from the floor was a little more difficult than I had anticipated. My leg gets stiff occasionally when too much force is placed on it.

I gripped the bed post and pulled myself up; I took a minuet to breathe.

Embarrassment coloured my cheeks, it's bad enough that I have this stupid leg but to have some stranger see me like this.

Stiffly I left the room with the tray without paying him another glance. Hot green eyes following me in my wake.

I thought I was going to be a nanny to a small boy but what Esme really needs is a lion tamer.

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**Thank you for reading, more tomorrow. xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hii, sorry for the delay. Thank you for the lovely reviews and ads. Xxx**

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I marched down the stairs, my heals making echoes into the calm house.

Esme was in the kitchen bent over the stove. The frying pan sizzled happily.

"Good morning." I said and sat the tray by the sink.

Esme turned to me with a gleaming smile on her face, then her eyes caught the tray and the smile disappeared.

There was a moment of awkwardness. Her mouth opened and closed.

"I-I heard a noise…I thought someone was in trouble…" I tried to explain. I hope I haven't overstepped a mark.

I can't afford to displease my employer, especially not the first morning of the job.

"I'm sorry." I said quickly.

She shook her head "No, no need to be sorry, I just wanted to introduce you to him after he was dressed, you must have had a fright!" she exclaimed with a chuckle to cover up her worry.

What had happened to him?

Was he a soldier? He had the frame of one, strong and tall if my brief observation was anything to go by.

Why was he trapped in that bed?

And why was he so angry?

So many questions, that's all I have. And like I have no possessions of worth I have no answers that help.

Like where did I come from before I woke up in that hospital? My head starts to hurt like it usually does when I try to think too hard on the past.

"Are you alright Bella?" Esme asked concern in her honey coloured eyes.

I force a smile "Yes, just a headache." I say lightly.

Esme looked nervous again.

"About my son, he's…" she paused, the words she were looking for absent.

He's angry and rude, I wanted to say but I knew that was not fair on this kind lady. It was obvious she was fighting a losing battle, but what that battle was I was unsure.

She turned and busied herself with the cooker.

Taking a deep breath she carried on with what she was saying.

"My son, Edward, he was injured in the war, things …have not been easy for him." And with that she stopped, that was all she was willing to say on the matter. And I respect that, it is not her story and I am just a stranger from London, I may as well be foreign to her.

I sure know I am foreign to myself, Esme knows as much about me as I do.

I nodded my head and started to wash the things on the tray in the sink.

I spent the rest of my first day helping Esme around the house, it was just little task like dusting and cleaning but I was content. I have spent the last three years doing nothing, being no one but a name on a medicine list, I made no impact in a hospital bed, but here I was being relied on to do something. For the first time in three years I felt something that was very close to happiness.

"We should go shopping." Esme said suddenly as she turned the wireless down, the chipper tunes of Gracie Fields fading out.

I looked up at her from the brass ornaments I was polishing.

"Yes we should, there is a great shop in the village that  
does the most delightful dresses and skirts." She was serious when she said this.

I looked down at my dress; once again shame clouded my mind.

Esme looked at me and chuckled "Not that you dress isn't lovely, I just think you deserve something new, something that shows off you." She explained.

There was only one problem in her plan. I don't have enough money for clothes.

"Erm…Esme…I don't have enough money for dresses." I winced at how pathetic my words sounded.

She brushed off my concern wish a wave of her hand.

"Not to worry, Sister Cope sent me some maintenance money to buy you some cloths." She said.

Oh, that's unexpected.

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	5. Chapter 5

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The village was bigger than I expected, I didn't really know what to expect but it wasn't this. The place in front of me was more like a small town's high street, not as chaotic and metropolitan as London but still busy.

On either side of a wide road were old shops, clearly they had been there for quite some time, small canopy's of stripped red and white shielded the window of the butches, a similar one but in green signalled that a few doors down was the green grocers.

Esme pointed excitedly at the shops. This one next to us was owned by her sister until she moved away but it was still a Bakery, apparently the bread is not as good as it used to be.

It smelled delicious to me.

People with smiles past us as we walked along the brown stabbed path. Some said good morning and others just smiled.

Smiling seemed to be standard etiquette here.

However the curious glances cast my way were too hard to ignore.

"Don't worry Bella; they haven't seen someone they are not related to in this village for a while. They are going to get a shock as soon as you speak!" her kind words didn't ease the discomfort I was feeling though.

Eventually I was steered into a dress shop.

Inside was like noting I don't think I have seen before.

There were no grand ball gowns like those in the old books or in paintings. What was displayed were beautiful in their own right.

Arranged in the window were three day dresses. One was a light pink like cotton candy cotton dress, its pleated skirt was knee length and A-line in shape, it was shirt dress with buttons down the front and a white belt around the middle. Next to it was a chocolate brown creation, simple in style and shape, it hugged the mannequin slightly but its sleeves were flared and floaty in their cotton lawn fabric.

But my favourite was the midnight blue one at the end. It too was a simple shirt dress, but the blue fabric was dotted with little cream daisies that matched the row of pearly white buttons down the centre. Even though it was made from cotton and was a day dress I know that if I were to wear it I would feel like royalty.

"Esme! How good to see you!" come the voice of a plump lady as she half walked half glided through the shop.

I left the two woken to talk and browsed the racks of clothing.

"She is already such a great help." I heard Esme say in a hushed voice.

"…she seems a lovely girl…" I caught her friends say.

"…It's nice to have company….rather lonely in a big house…" they were silent for a moment.

I threw them a small smile and moved onto looking at the shoes.

"…and Edward how is he faring up?"

"…it's hard to say anymore…"

"..Can't be easy after…"

The bell above the door chimed merrily announcing another customer.

"So Bella, have you seen anything you like, beside the blue dress in the window that is?" she said jokingly.

I shook my head laughing.

She placed her hands on her hips and sighed dramatically.

"Well there is nothing else for it then, you must have that dress in the window."

I wore my new dress for dinner that night, my first dinner outside of the hospital.

Esme made us pork chops and vegetables for dinner.

"I was lucky to get hold of these." She told me as she dished the steaming delights onto pristine white plates.

"Now that rationing has died down a little everyone wants pork chops for breakfast, lunch and dinner!"

I laughed along with her and then tucked into my food.

"Have you lived here all your life?" I asked her.

She shook her head "No, this is my husband's house, I moved in here with him when we married." She said and looked around the dining room with a nostalgic smile on her face.

I too looked at the room's expanse, large white fireplace adorned with picture frames and little trinkets, all holding a story and a past.

A large mahogany grandfather clock stood in the corner counting down the minuets till tomorrow.

It all felt too lonely to me, like the people had risen from these empty chairs and had simply walked away.

"It's a beautiful house." I commented.

She nodded in agreement "My husband's family had an eye for decor; however I am pleased to say that I have left my own mark on the place." She chuckled.

I wanted to ask her if anyone else lived here or had but I realised that perhaps this is one of those houses with an empty place, the chairs around this table certainly point to it.

"It can be rather lonely in this house" she said.

"You have your son." I couldn't help but say. Esme gave me a sad smile.

"Yes I do have my Edward."

I decided to bite the bullet "What about your husband?"

Besides the best way to find things out is to ask them isn't it?

She wasn't taken aback or surprised by my question; rather I think she was expecting it.

"He is a very important man, you see, so he is away a lot in London, government work is very time consuming." It felt like her words were recorded somehow, or she was reading from a script.

I just nodded although her words unsettled me.

When I was in the hospital I heard every excuse under the sun about why husbands couldn't come and visit. Business trips that took them away, visiting a relative that was ill, all very plausible but piteously unbelievable.

Still I won't judge this kind lady, it's not my place and it would be wrong on many levels to do so.

"And now I don't mind his being away, I have you to keep me company." She reached and squeezed my hand; I squeezed back showing my gratitude.

She had divulged so much to me, a mere battered anonymous Londoner.

"I don't know about my family." I said that hollow feeling came back like I knew it would. But I could bare it, it is only fair.

"I am called Isabella Swan but I have no family on the books or registers in London, not that I would recognise them if I did."

Esme looked at my sympathetically.

"Sister Cope told me you had been in a coma and have amnesia, you poor thing." She sounded on the verge of tears.

"Don't be upset for me, if I can't remember what happened to me during the war then perhaps that is a good thing."

"Yes perhaps it is." Was all she said, a thousand different emptions playing out on her kind face.

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**Thank you for reading! More soon. Xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello!**  
**Sorry for the delay. Thank you for the lovely reviews. Hope you enjoy the**  
**chapter. X**

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I rolled over and pulled the duvet tighter around my shoulders, it didn't matter how much I willed my mind to drift off to sleep I just couldn't.

Rolling onto my back I looked to the crack in the curtains. Soft grey moonlight struggled through and cast a midnight shadow across the floor.

An owl hooted near my window, his day just beginning as mine should have ended.

The house was quiet, only the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs could be heard.

It was so different than what I am used to that it made me uncomfortable. Where was the scurrying feet? The rattle of curtains as they are drawn back to reveal a complaining patient?

Giving up I pulled the warm blankets over my head,.

Suddenly a muffle scream jolted me out from my sanctuary.

What the?

I felt the hairs rise on my arms.

There was another sound followed by a smash.

I didn't think before I had propelled myself out of my bed and was running down the hall.

I don't know why but the first room I ran to was Edwards.

Without a breath I pushed the door open.

It was then that my mind caught up with me.

Edward was sitting up on his bed, feet on the ground.

Sweat made his night shirt cling to his chest, that fiery hair of his stock out in frantic directions.

"Edward?" my voice was shaky at the sight before me.

His head shot up, green eyes red and wild.

A glass lay smashed by the bedside cabinet.

He didn't say anything as tears trickled down his cheek.

I moved a cautious step forward; my chest ached and urged me to do something.

"Edward?" I asked.

He shook his head as if to bring himself back again.

But he still said nothing

The room was dark, only the light from the early morning moon cast Edwards shadow across the floor on illuminated his glistening face.

With small steps I walked towards him.

I could feel the heat from him radiating around the room.

I crouched down in front of him.

"Edward." I said softly as to not startle him

He seemed to shake his head, shaking away the images in his mind.

"I'm sorry I woke you." His voice was gruff, pained.

I shook my head not trusting my voice for an answer.

Neither of us moved. I listened to his harsh breathing.

Taking a deep breath I turned the lamp on by his bed careful not to step on the glass.

Edward remained sat upright on his bed.

"I-is there anything I can get you?" I asked.

"Stay with me." He said, although his words were soft they rang out into the sleeping house and rattle my heart.

I couldn't have left him if I had tried.

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